Photographs
by HorsesRMyAngels
Summary: Tony finds old pictures of his mom. Based off of spoilers for Season 10.


**AN:** Based off of that spoiler we got earlier this week about Tony finding pictures of his mom and talking to Ziva about her. Just some ideas ;)

**Disclaimer:** If I did, I'd be writing scripts, not fanfiction.

Tony had flipped through these photos what seemed like a hundred times already, but that didn't stop him from picking up the one of her and him on vacation when he was seven. They were sitting on the beach, smiling. He couldn't remember this vacation, but he wished more than anything that he did.

He exchanged the photograph for the glass of scotch which sat on the coffee table.

As he finished off the scotch while simultaneously gazing at the pictures spread out on the table before him, he heard someone knocking at his door. Having a good idea as to who it might be, he put down the glass and trudged over to answer it.

Sure enough, he swung open the door to see Ziva leaning against the doorframe, a worried look about her countenance.

"What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly. She rolled her eyes.

"Hello to you, too, Tony," she said sarcastically.

"Ziva."

"I came to see how you were doing," Ziva explained, her tone soft and concerned. "Abby told me about the photographs of your…I know what it's like, you know, losing your mother. Especially when you are young. It is hard, to say the least."

Tony sighed. Of course Abby told her. And he shouldn't act so surprised; he knew she'd come looking for him once she heard.

"Would you like to come in?" he offered, stepping aside.

"Thank you." As soon as Ziva walked into the apartment, she noticed the coffee table blanketed in the newly developed photographs. The second thing she noticed was the scotch. "I see we have been drinking," she said dryly. Tony didn't answer her. Instead, he returned to his seat on the couch and to his previous occupation, memorizing each and every picture.

Ziva stayed standing for a few minutes, observing his obvious distress, before gingerly sitting down next to him on the couch. They remained silent as Tony picked up yet another picture and let out a deep sigh. He was about to place it back down when Ziva's hand darted out and grabbed his wrist gently.

"May I see it?" she asked quietly. Reluctantly, he handed the photograph to her.

Ziva tenderly traced her thumb over an eight-year-old Tony's face as she regarded the woman standing next to him in the photo, taken aboard a pearl white sailboat, most likely somewhere in New England.

"She was beautiful, your mother," Ziva whispered. Tony nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "You must miss her very much, Tony." She softly laid the photo on the table in front of him. He just sat there, his eyes boring holes in it, unmoving. Ziva felt her heart fill with sympathy for her partner, her best friend. She found herself reaching out and placing her hand over his. "It is okay to miss her. She was your mother."

At her words, Tony's hand moved to cover his face as he choked back a sob. He'd rather die than let Ziva see him cry. DiNozzos don't cry. However, he failed miserably at his endeavors to hide his grief.

Ziva was bewildered at the sight of Tony breaking down and crying in front of her. She couldn't remember there ever being a time when she had seen him cry. Finding an impulse to reach out and comfort him, she laid a hand on his back and began to rub small circles between his shoulder blades.

Embarrassed as he was at breaking down into tears in front of her, Tony found Ziva's gentle, caring touch comforting. He finally took a deep breath and composed himself.

"I'm so sorry, Ziva."

"Don't be, Tony," Ziva replied. "I know what it is like, holding your emotions back, ignoring them instead of facing them. You cannot hide them away. I know what that's like."

Tony sighed. Vulnerable as he was, and not quite thinking straight, he placed his hand on Ziva's waist and pulled her closer to his side. Instead of pulling away, Ziva almost instinctively reached her hand from his back to his shoulder.

"My mother loved movies," Tony murmured. "Especially classic films. She's the reason I spend my life watching movies, you know."

Ziva chuckled and leaned her chin on his shoulder.

"Your incessant movie references are part of who you are, Tony. It is one of the things I love about you."

The words escaped her lips before she knew what she was saying, before she could substitute the "I" for the much safer "we". She hoped he hadn't noticed. But he had.

When he turned his face to look at Ziva, Tony saw her shyly drag her bottom lip between her teeth, as if to silence any other possible confessions. On any other day, he would've capitalized on this. But today wasn't any other day.

Tony pressed a kiss to Ziva's forehead.

"Thank you, Ziva. For everything."

She let him draw her into his arms then, and bury his face in her shoulder as he dealt with his memories.

"Anything for you, Tony," Ziva whispered, and she meant it.


End file.
